THIS BLOG IS ABOUT 7" RECORDS ONLY. YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY. EVERY SONG IS CONVERTED TO MP3 FROM MY PERSONAL 45 COLLECTION, AND THERE'S NOT ONE THAT I WOULDN'T RECOMMEND YOU SEEKING OUT. ANY COPYRIGHT HOLDERS WHO DON'T WANT THEIR MUSIC HEARD HERE JUST LET ME KNOW, AND DOWN IT WILL COME. CLICK ON ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE.

Archive for the ‘Joey Ramone’ Category

This was the more familiar version to me than Jerry Lee Lewis’, given I was a toddler when the latter one was current. Like everyone, I was amused by Tiny Tim, and took for granted how something so different and seemingly novel could be heard by the masses. Our present anything-goes society does not, as you know, apply to radio programming. Well, in the 60′s it was different. So I heard this a few times and thought it was pretty rocking. I still think so today. His falsetto, even his hair and shape, all were brought forward twenty years and filled arenas, this time under the coincidentally similar guise of Robert Smith and The Cure.

Tiny Tim revered the music of the early 20th century, with a reputed encyclopedic knowledge of the work. He certainly seemed a kind and gentle fellow when he turned up at a surprise birthday party Joey Ramone had in the late 80′s. Joe knew everyone, and was right at home having a long conversation with him upon arrival. I was in flying mode, but Duane paid him more attention. I wish now I had too. ‘Mickey The Monkey’ is one of many fine, and by then, ignored follow ups to his Top 40 hit ‘Tip Toe Through The Tulips’. It’s a great example of his authenticity to ragtime ballads.

Ron DeBlasio, who managed X, also worked with Tiny Tim for a while. I recall him telling me that after shows, he would order large, lavish room service meals, and sit eating his serving while carrying on a complete conversation with the invisible person across the table whose meal would logically remain uneaten. A good eccentric indeed.

A bit of a baffling one here. Got to know Andy Shernoff, who wrote this, quite well via Joey Ramone. They were close friends way before I knew either, having played shows together in the early CBGB’s days. Logically, and given the small world we live in, Andy’s close to Monte Melnick, Mickey Leigh and Lindsay Hutton as well. So the fit was natural. But most importantly, he’s a super guy with never a bad word to say about anyone.

And his lifelong bandmate, Dick Manitoba, well same story. A real testament to strength, business sense and flawless musical instinct. Even though we all socialized often for the past twenty years, it wasn’t until tonight did I realize I’d not heard ‘Sleepin’ With The TV On’ for almost as long. How could this be?

Simple, it’s an overlooked, not true to the purists, representation of The Dictators’ harder sound. Instead, I suppose it was power pop, not a genre that brings out my loyalty either.But having caught Manitoba’s Sirius radio show earlier tonight in my new satellite equipped car, it suddenly dawned on me that the first thing I needed to revisit upon arriving home was this single. Which I just did.

True to memory, ‘Sleepin’ With The TV On’, by song’s end and as a result of Andy’s picture perfect chorus, is something else. Now I recall why I loved it so during it’s time of release. Still, the record is an anomaly when it comes to the band’s signature sound, and to quote Little Steven, they were “the connective tissue between the eras of The MC5, Stooges, The New York Dolls, and the punk explosion of the mid to late 1970s”. What’s to disagree about?

Hey thanks Vicki Wickham, for keeping this one since the 60′s. Yes, it was part of her 45 collection that I was gifted by Saint Vicki herself last fall.

You know, I love you Vicki Wickham.

Let’s talk about Vicki Wickham. We first met in ’89, when she managed Phranc during her Island days. I remember exactly where we first shook hands: backstage at the Beacon Theater, in the the very stairway where Ahmet Ertegan took his last spill. Phranc had just hired her, and was at that time on tour with The Pogues.

I was actually meeting thee Vicki Wickham. The one that booked READY! STEADY! GO!, managed Dusty Springfield, co-wrote ‘You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me’ with Simon Napier-Bell, produced Labelle. The one who not only booked the infamous Saville Theatre series, brought the Motown Review to England, worked at Track Records with The Who, Thunderclap Newman, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Marsha Hunt, The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown, John’s Children, and yes, The Cherry Smash; but also knew Scott Walker…and Brian Jones. I was nervous and in awe. Vicki Wickham was a higher form of life.

Fast forward. Nowadays, we meet often for lunch, on 9th Ave and 44th Street at Marseilles, possibly her favorite restaurant. She always orders the asparagus omelette and eats about half. I grill her for details: RSG, The BBC during the 60′s, Rediffusion Television, Top Of The Pops not to mention every band and everybody she ever encountered. Did she visit the Immediate Records office, Deram, Philips, Fontana. What was the Ready Steady Go canteen like, did she know Tony Hall, Steve Marriott, Inez Foxx, Joe Meek, Dozy. When did she last speak with Andrew Loog Oldham, P.P. Arnold or Madeline Bell…..we cover, discuss, judge and trash tons of people. Yes, we are guilty. Needless to say, there’s never a loss for topics.

On one such occasion last year, she mentions having just found boxes of 45′s in storage, and the only one she can remember seeing in the whole bunch was the Bessie Banks ‘Go Now’ UK A label pressing. Was I interested in the lot? That’s like asking Alago, Duane, Joe and I if we’d like a free bump in the VIP bathroom at The Ritz in the 80′s. Ahh, yeah.

Right after my little kid fascination with The McGuire Sisters, I moved on to The Ronettes and The Shangri-Las. This process seemed an eternity, but was actually only a year or two span. No sooner had the girl groups caught my ear, than surf took hold. Even though we lived in upstate New York, our favorite sport was surfing. At least that’s what we all agreed. I’m not a deeply knowledgeable collector of surf, but I do love a lot of the big hits. Summertime poured out of our transistor radios when any of the many surf singles were played, regardless of the season. Most friends were drawn to The Beach Boys, and indeed ‘Surfin USA’ and ‘Don’t Worry Baby’ still tingle like a first listen every play. But Jan & Dean for me were most consistent. These two singles, over time, have risen to the top. No secret that Brian Wilson co-wrote many of their hits, and that Jan was very involved in Beach Boys recordings too. It must have been an incredible time in LA.

‘Dead Man’s Curve’ is particularly eerie, given the near fatal crash two years after it’s release suffered by Jan Berry very close to the actual dead man’s curve, on Whittier Drive and Sunset Blvd. I have often driven past there, late at night, on my way back from John’s place just the other side of Bel Air, and would creep myself out by blasting this on the ipod. I know the route that the lyrics describe by heart. The fantasy of drag racing along Sunset, past Doheny and onward to the curve in a bright red Corvette is irresistible. Cheap thrills for a non resident basically.

Still all the history of LA and Hollywood never ceases to attract my morbid side. Years ago, Denise Zoom drove Joey and I to where the Tate murders happened. We were pretty buzzed, it was late and feeling adventurous. Halfway up the drive we both started shouting and screaming for her to stop – and back up. Never did make it all the way to the top. We were brave enough to drive past the garage where Sal Mineo was stabbed later that night though.

Even ‘Ride The Wild Surf’ has a spine chiller element to it. Never could place what. The melody? The strings? The power of the ocean? They all make for an anthemic song not often given it’s dues anymore.

I decided to get both John and Joe to hand write the ‘Sheena Is A Punk Rocker’ lyrics, then frame them, with a copy of the record in the center. John, not surprisingly, did an immaculate job. He was a very profound autograph collector, and specific about how his name should be signed. You’ll notice on any items with his inscription, little to no variation in his signature. Even the jukebox tab shined with his neatness.

He once convinced me to go with him to an autograph collectors show near his place in LA. I got Ellie May, Tabitha from Bewitched and the three girls from Petticoat Junction to sign 8 x 10′s. It was total fun, but he didn’t succeed in switching my interest from records to one of his obsessions: autographs. Good try though.

And so, I always meant to get Joe to do those lyrics too. You know how you think, I can do that tomorrow or next week. But it never came.

We all miss Joe so very much still. Isn’t this just one of the greatest singles ever made?

Just a hunch here, but having worked at Columbia, Epic’s sister label, I’m betting the culture at those two companies in the 90′s and early 21st century was one that had prevailed back when Redbone were signed and molded for success. Keep it commercial. Even when they didn’t think they were doing just that….they were.

The marketing angle of a Native American band, named Redbone, was probably a bit risky, but could go off. Just polish it and get it onto the radio….it can happen. Now admittedly, the band’s music incorporated R&B, cajun, jazz, tribal, and Latin. Still, it always had a safe sheen to it.

Opinions on this will be extreme, but I’ll go to my grave believing that’s how the company saw The Clash. Punk that could be polished. It sure is how I saw them.

I recall when MTV had a daily interview/music show for a while. This would have been around the late 80′s, maybe early 90′s. No, I don’t recall it’s name. But one afternoon, The Ramones were the guests so I went along with them to the taping (Marc Almond was on that day as well). Band plays song, sits for interview like on Leno or whatever, then plays another song. That was the program’s format. It was quite good fun and really loud, with the audience full of fans.

One of the questions they asked Joey: “So you brought punk to England in ’76 and met the The Clash?”, implying that something about that meeting inspired The Ramones. His response was quick and simple “No, they met us”.

Sums it up perfectly, including my outlook on The Clash: corporate punk. Perfect for the CBS Records group.

And likewise, I’m sure Redbone would have, could have been way more earthy and dirty in the recordings, packaging and imaging if left to their own devices. Pick up an early album or two and just look at those song titles. They tell it all.

I’ve never met Redbone, or had conversation about them with anyone even remotely connected to the band. But my speculation is they were produced in every sense of the word, until the band, through the years, just gave in and went along. Eventually it paid off, hitting it out of the park with ‘Come And Get Your Love’, which I do love by the way, good pop single. Nonetheless, sadly the thing that was special about them was gone, and they comfortably blended into the assembly line of mainstream formula rock, which in two short years, would start to crack and crumble.

But the early singles, ‘The Witch Queen Of New Orleans’ being one, hint at a much darker sound and cryptic lyric that was still allowed to spill through a bit in the beginning.

Ok, so a follow up single isn’t always better than the hit preceding it, as was maybe the case with ‘Up To My Neck In High Muddy Water’. It’s hard to top ‘Different Drum’. In fact, Linda Ronstadt never did. At least I don’t remember her doing it, possibly due in part to my general lack of interest toward country leaning music back then.

‘Different Drum’ was indeed another story though. It became a radio staple not long after Jefferson Airplane’s somewhat similar sounding ‘White Rabbit’, and at the same time as both ‘Itchycoo Park’ by The Small Faces and ‘Zabadak’ from Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich.

‘Different Drum’ felt a bit psychedelic, even though it wasn’t. Maybe it was by association. Nick Venet was the producer and his work covered many genres. As a Capitol in house employee, seems he was handed all their youth culture signings of the day, thus slotting The Stone Poneys sessions between The Leaves, Lothar & The Hand People or Hearts & Flowers. It was one of many historic times at the Capitol Tower.

Long before Simon Cowell, the ruthless corporate machine gnawed it’s way through bands, carving out the superstar for investment and mainstream marketing, leaving the other members to survive somehow. As when Clive Davis butchered Big Brother & The Holding Company for Janis Joplin, so too, it seems, did Capitol decimate The Stone Poneys for the asset now known as Linda Ronstadt.

‘Different Drum’ by The Stone Poneys was literally still on Billboard’s Top 100 when ‘Up To My Neck In High Muddy Water’ was released as Linda Ronstadt & The Stone Poneys. Housed in a full color sleeve, big things were expected. The record stalled at #93, but the setback was only temporary. She skyrocketed. It’s a great single despite the misery.

Linda Ronstadt was particularly critical of The Ramones, having gone to CBGB’s, catching an early performance and trashing them the very next day in a local New York paper. It was a hurtful moment that they talked about on occasion. So when Elektra threw a rather lavish party for her in New York, upon release of a successful new album, CANCIONES DE MI PADRE, the mischievous idea of inviting the band was impossible to resist and they were happy to attend.

We all met at Paul’s Lounge on 3rd and 10th, now a drug store, for a drink, then proceeded uptown to the event. Monte of course came along, Michael Alago and Arturo Vega did too. Everyone cleaned up on designer Mexican food, the album theme being traditional Mexican folk songs, and waited patiently for her to make the rounds, greeting her guests. The moment when she turned towards our table was classic, but it was too late to turn back. Obviously, she’d not been forewarned. Her look was priceless. DeeDee smiled and stared very menacingly, John just glared. Joey, after about five or ten seconds, decided to break the silence with “So Linda, long time no see”.

Nervously: “How are you guys doing?”

“We’re fine” replies John before she’s even finished her last word.

Incredible singer, successful artist but at that moment, Linda Ronstadt was stumped. Wincing, she backed away and slithered into the crowd.

The other day, my super pal Brian Traister maintained the real UK punk band, best ever, were The Damned. I agree.

Every single was just flawless, for ages. Their run on Chiswick being one of those career peaks, and they had several. Produced by Roger Armstrong, I forever hassle his memory cells for details of those sessions. Talk about endless stories of greatness.

When Joey’s Mom and brother Mickey still had the promised 50th birthday party for him, which he unfairly missed by a month and four days, The Damned were the only UK band that flew themselves over to honor what they maintained in the press since day one: The Ramones were the true fathers of punk – it proved who was the real deal from England and who were the money machines, copy cats and fakes.

Hearing the roar when Little Steven announced them (all the acts were kept secret but regardless, 4400 tickets were completely sold out in fifteen minutes to Joey Ramone’s well earned honor) still brings chills. Up came the curtain, and there were The Damned.

Some things were meant to be: Roger was in NY that week, and we made sure he sat right there, in the first box, with Joey’s Mom.

I’m not generally a fan of songs about sitting by train tracks waiting for the such and such to roll by. As a lyrical theme, once was too much. So I tended to pay little attention to ‘Click Clack’.

Just so happens my Captain Beefheart singles don’t get much attention, on a high top shelf and pretty close to The Beatles, a section I rarely browse. But I admittedly found myself wanting to hear ‘Click Clack’, Joey’s brother having just sent a rough mix of a railroad song my way. I recall when Joe had written it, and played it down the phone one afternoon. Finally, a railroad song that captured my interest.

What the hell, I pulled out his 7′s (always a fun browse) and had forgotten how authentic Captain Beefheart’s rendition of the theme worked. Just enough blues juxtaposed against an unlikely bass and drum rhythm. Almost as if the two sections of players weren’t even listening to each other.

Possibly Captain Beefheart’s most commercial 7″ since his initial ‘Diddy Wah Diddy’, I’m not sure why The Magic Band (as they were now known – as opposed to His Magic Band) were excluded from the label copy despite having played on the single.

One morning, around ’85, I got into my office at Elektra around 9:30, and just cranked The Birthday Party’s ‘Release The Bats’ single, then their latest release. Before it was over, Bob Krasnow was standing in my doorway, huge grin on his face. “What the fuck is this, sounds like Beefheart, I love it”. He would know, having produced much of his Buddah releases and ultimately signing him to Reprise. Not long afterwards, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds became Elektra recording artists.

Heart had the bad timing of critical mass appeal around ’77, just as punk was our religion. Talk about a jinx. Heart were helium coated, corporate, Lee Abrams AOR gack. They were literally nauseating. And loathed. Well, not by the masses, but those of us who felt we were in the know, with proper taste.

In hindsight, they were fascinating, for every sonic reason listed above. Now their glistening studio perfection is bizarrely intoxicating, addictive even, very much like the Roy Thomas Baker Queen productions and almost alien.

As with most of the big bands of the day, the ones radio rammed down our throats (REO Speedwagon, Journey, The Doobie Brothers), I always ended up having a guilty pleasure or two by each and every one. Heart were no exception.

I absolutely loved ‘Nothin’ At All’, right down to the apostrophy in it’s title, mainstream turned up to eleven production and all. Then there’s the picture on the sleeve. A styling faux pas representing everything that had gone horribly wrong with American AOR radio. Indeed, it exemplified why it eroded music as an important part of US culture. But I loved that single. Still do – more than ever actually.

Somewhere in the mid/late 90′s, there was a benefit at The Ritz, after it’s relocation uptown to where Studio 54 was once housed. Don’t recall the cause, but the headliners were Joey Ramone and the Wilson sisters from Heart. They had a side project at that time: The Lovemongers. And that’s who played on this occasion.

I went along with Joe. He had a bunch of friends backing him that night, playing some classics by other bands as well as a few from The Ramones, and was kinda in an ‘everyone come along for a laugh and a few beers’ mood.

Heart’s original road manager, Kelly Curtis, who went on to manage Pearl Jam, was with Ann and Nancy. Kelly and I became great friends in the early 90′s. He helped me out in life when I really needed it – in a big way and I’m always thrilled to see him, particularly as this was very unexpected (I think he was passing through town that day – or something). So he invited me into to meet Nancy and Ann.

By now, my venom for their music had long past, and it was a pleasure to sit and talk with these two incredibly lovely people. At one point, trying to make an extreme point, I quantified it with, “but don’t mind me, I love Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick & Tich”. Ann sits straight up and exclaims ‘I love Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick & Tich too’. Instant fast friends. We dug into songs, details and how we first heard them – as fans do. Somewhere in the conversation mix, I mention my other, at that time, obsession: Sunbeam mixers. Nancy’s guitar tech, in the room at that moment, whips round and says “You’re into Sunbeam – me too”. Ann says “He really is – show him”. So this guy takes off his T shirt, turns his back to me and proudly displays a ton of Sunbeam toaster tattoos across his torso. All the classic models.

There was once a great revolution in US radio programming, when all the underground music in the 60′s – like album tracks and singles by album type artists – started getting aired on FM stations.

Top 40 back then was a life saver compared to now, but was pretty quick to avoid anything considered too colorful or probably drug related. So off the Top 40 airwaves stayed Traffic, The Move, The Nice, early Jimi Hendrix Experience, early Cream, definitely early Pink Floyd, The Grateful Dead, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Big Brother & The Holding Company, etc. Still many of the major market Top 40s (I got WBZ/Boston clear as a bell) would open up in the evening and definitely after midnight. And to be fair, some acts got converted to regular play.

But it’s those late night listening memories I’m touching on here. Like Joey sang in ‘Do You Remember Rock n Roll Radio’: “Do you remember lying in bed / With the covers pulled up over your head / Radio playing so no one can see”. All of us that were addicted did this nightly – especially in the summer when you could sleep in the next day. This is how I discovered The Seeds (‘Mr Farmer’ and ‘Pushin Too Hard’ are still night time records for me), Jefferson Airplane (‘My Best Friend’ is a big favorite), Blue Cheer, Tim Rose (his version of ‘Hey Joe’ was the first I heard and clearly the template for the Jimi Hendrix version) and especially Tim Hardin. Yeah, I was bitten by this haunting single ‘You Upset The Grace Of Living When You Lie’. I even liked that the title was too long and the untimely fade out.

Folk was hip, I always wanted a smattering beyond Bob Dylan and I guess others did too. Did anyone really dislike Joan Baez, Richie Havens or Buffy St. Marie like they pretended? Probably not. But Tim Hardin hasn’t gotten his deserved props either. Listening with one ear attached to my transitor and the other hearing the ambience of late night, small town, upstate NY: crickets, the New York Central freight trains way off in the distance, the occasional drifting of the cars on Thruway also out there. The whole thing still comes right back to me every time, and I mean every time, I play this.

I saw them first on 120 Minutes, that buried after midnight on Sundays MTV show, where they played all the left of center stuff. Their pictures were fantastic, remember all the colors and outfits? The video was a riot. Soon after, they came to NY – they had supported The Ramones in Japan and Joe was raving about them – we couldn’t get there fast enough. What a blast – a Japanese Revillos. We hung backstage later. They just gawked in awe of Joe and I fell I love three times in under 15 minutes, while we both ate more than our share of the red velvet cake the promoter had gifted the band.

‘Twist Barbie’ is absolutely one of the best singles ever. Still sounds brand new.

No one said it better than Seymour Stein: “A band like The Ramones don’t come along once in a lifetime, they come along once”.

Somewhere on the west side, either 14th or 23rd Street, they were recording a few songs. Damn if I can remember where.

As I recall it, there was a single to do between albums for the UK and the band had a song they figured would work. Well not John, but the others that is.

Around 10 pm, the phone rang. It was Joe. Did I wanna go to The Ritz for a drink and oh, could you pick me up? Couldn’t have come at a more boring moment, I was alone for the weekend. Got in the Honda, and headed over.

I remember this as clearly as looking in the mirror. He jumped into the front seat. There was definitely something about the expression on his face, eyes almost bugging and kind of panting, breathing anxiously. “You gotta hear this song, can I play it, it’s a rough mix but you gotta hear it”. Ah – yeah!

In went the cassette. I guess I was luckily the first person to hear it outside of the studio walls. Joe kept watching for my reaction, beaming at the same time. How could he not. The Ramones had just finished recording one of the greatest singles of all time.

I pulled over on 2nd Ave. I had too. This sounded so fantastic it was almost unbelievable. We listened a few more times really loud. It was warm, windows open, perfect until more than a few kids, awestruck at seeing Joey Ramone sitting in this car, started to clammer. God bless him, Joe had time for everyone, autographs, pictures, you name it. It often took us half an hour to go a couple blocks from his place to eat – every walk of life stopped him on the street, fans, foreigners, even cops, always. So after a bunch of hellos, it was time to drive along.

You see, one of The Ramones biggest fans was Joe himself. So he had no problem with my insistence we drive a bit and keep listening. We went round and round town, up the east side, through the park, down the West End Highway, playing this for at least an hour, probably two. No exaggeration.

As Seymour Stein once loudly yelled down the hall to a certain snooty A&R guy, “Don’t lie to me you liar”.

The action never ended on that 21st floor of 75 Rockefeller Plaza, home to the Warner labels for decades. Our Medicine office was conveniently smack dab in the middle of a long hallway anchored on one end by the Warner/Reprise A&R staff and at the other, Seymour and the Sire staff. Duane and I had the best seats in the house.

And anyone who tells you they never liked The Damned is also a liar. Not mentioned as often as they should be, the band were easily an equal to The Sex Pistols when it comes to the UK punk crown. A tie.

Captain Sensible never could, never will, do any wrong. He’s hysterical, a fantastic entertainer, front man, side man, guitarist, bassist, songwriter and an all around good guy. He was a big friend of Joey Ramone’s, and it was The Damned who were the only UK band that flew themselves over from England to honor his life at Hammerstein Ballroom a month after he passed away. His Mom, brother and all his close friends never forgot.

Sometimes the good ones do get their just rewards. Who wasn’t pleased when Captain’s first solo single ‘Happy Talk’ topped the UK charts? Captain Sensible at #1! Yes.

The followup, ‘Wot!’, also a chart success, was even better. It was pure Sensible humor. Hearing it is seeing him in that two piece pink shag rug suit. Great records make you visualize the artist. Here’s the proof.

Two years later, when it was looking like the solo Captain Sensible moment had passed, ‘Glad It’s All Over’, with it’s mischievous Kid Creole & The Coconuts fake intro, barreled to a UK #6. Great song, great production, great news. Again, hats off to the Captain.

This was ’84 and towards the end of a six year run, late night weekly FM radio specialty show I co-hosted with Roger McCall. We both found ourselves to be so sick of the ghettoized midnight to 2 AM life sentence of a time slot that the WCMF programmers inflicted on music which should’ve been heard all day. And so we’d end every show with ‘Glad It’s All Over’. They were so in the dark, they never did catch on.

It could have been awful, and left a nasty void, had John Lydon not delivered as powerful and contemporary a debut single for his new band as this. Do you remember the video that accompanied it? Equally great.

Johnny Ramone always planned to quit before the band got “fat, bald or lazy”. Despite everyone coaxing he and Joey back to the stage after their ’96 retirement, they did leave a timeless image of themselves, just as John planned, by never doing so. Whether by design or not, The Sex Pistols are in the same boat.

Lydon often hung out with Michael and Howard at Elektra around the time ALBUM was released in ’86. What a fucking hysterical guy. No question, he was a great night out.

One of the often overlooked punk pop classics. I remember Joey always saying how much he loved this band, and how good they were opening a bunch of UK dates for The Ramones in ’77. Not sure what happened, seems they had that initial blast of great singles, and really good debut album, then clunk. Shame. ‘First Time’ is right up there.

1983, the year before Howard Thompson offered me my first real job doing A&R for Elektra, I was finishing an electrical engineering degree at RIT in Rochester. I was part of a popular local punk band and apparently a good candidate to anchor a two hour weekly show on the town’s AOR station. The program was called ‘Import/Export’. The point being to play all the very happening music the college and underground kids were devouring and giving the station a touch of needed cred, as well as allowing them to sell spots to local clubs promoting those bands as they passed through town, and charging the labels for some time buys on these releases without really having to play this uncommercial music during the earlier hours, when people actually listened. I was thrilled and should have appreciated it more, as no one has ever offered me a similar opportunity since.

When visiting town last year, I gave the station a listen. It’s an interesting, but sad, time warp, still playing ‘Iron Man’, Styx, J. Geils Band, things I can’t even remember now that dropped my jaw when they came on, a playlist that recently put some of the employees responsible for this programming out of jobs. Oh well, they stifled music culture for long enough. My show, hidden at midnight on Tuesdays. was hosted jointly by Roger McCall, a more wonderful person you just will never meet.

Roger and I would play ‘Wipeout Beat’ weekly for months. Like Marianne Faithfull’s ‘The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan’, it constantly gets overlooked when the press sites early music that helped start electronica and dance are sighted. Produced by Ric Ocasek, as was Alan’s band, Suicide’s ‘Dream Baby Dream’, Roger and I would not answer the constantly ringing request lines as we blared this on 11, a high point of the evening for us always.

When I joined Elektra a year later, Howard and Michael Alago, who signed Alan to the label, introduced me to him and we became amazingly close friends quickly, closing Danceteria almost nightly with booker Ruth Polsky, visiting UK bands like Sisters Of Mercy, The Smiths or New Order, Joey Ramone, Arturo Vega, Mickey Leigh, Monte Melnick, Marina Lutz, Duane Sherwood, a then, unibrowed, Madonna, and of course Howard and Micheal.

With Marty Rev, his other half in Suicide, you can save yourself a lot of time and money by seeing one of their very occasional New York shows. You won’t need to spend either much time or money on going out again. They are so powerful, it’s almost unbelievable. How the likes of Beyonce etc. aren’t lining up to get Marty’s beats onto their new recordings is shocking. Why acts get out of bed in the morning trying to compete with Suicide is quite baffling to me.

Unfortunately, the reality is that a few years back, Roger was cruelly and needlessly murdered. His killers are still unfound. Given that he worked at the station I refer to above, WCMF, for something like 30 years, I heard he may have been the longest employed DJ at any US rock radio station, I’m shocked that, despite the large voice and influence WCMF had in that market, they didn’t use it to bring any attention or help to finding the people who did this, not stopping until justice was served. But no, only more archaic music numbly being broadcast as though nothing had happened.